


The Sounds of Home

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, the return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-12
Updated: 2010-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another day under the mountain</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sounds of Home

**Author's Note:**

> For Taming the Muse prompt: crumpled papers

The alarm sounded through the base.

Sheppard pushed up from his desk and then he quelled his first instinct to tap his ear to call the Gateroom. A month in exile and he continued to miss the Atlantis devices over the more terrestrian radios. Staff Sergeant Harriman's previous polite statements that "the situation was under control, sir" still rang in his ears. The 'it wasn't his situation to worry about' was silent but present each time nonetheless.

He heard running in the corridor by his office, putting a back-beat to the cycling of the alarm. Earth was so much noisier than home- than Atlantis. His fingers tapped, trying to release the adrenalin coursing through his system. It wasn't like he never went on missions. It just felt like it. Despite McKay's litany of sensitivities, it was "Bubble Boy" Bambus who'd been affected. This was their third mission as a team, and third time the kid had broken out in a rash.

The alarm continued to ring; its urgency calling to him. John looked up, now resigned to the gray concrete instead of the placid green and blue tones of where he should be. Wrong sights, wrong sounds. He took a deep breath, picturing himself facing Teyla with the bantos. He needed that calm for the work he did have to do, and it wasn't out there. Mission reports, requisition reports, signing off on medical reports: that was just the military, but who'd have thought the SGC would have a series of forms for off world allergic reactions? He opened his eyes and stared down at the various codes and ticky boxes. He thought about sending Lorne a bottle of something, the man had definitely protected him far better than he'd known. That first year, food held priority over forms. Ford had done what he could, but. But.

Another breath and he started to review what he'd just spent the last twenty minutes trying to suss out. He noticed he'd checked possible flora contagion when they'd been on a desert world this time. He growled and crumpled the paper--part of him relished the destruction of what had been a scare resource on Atlantis-- then he tossed it haphazardly near the waste basket. It joined four other offerings to the gods of unnecessary paperwork. The mere existence of such forms only re-enforced that the SGC had been doing this a lot longer than he had. Even after they'd regained contact with Earth, feeding the bureaucratic machine had never been the main focus of his time. Survival, exploration, and keeping up team morale in the form of bugging McKay: that had been his life.

The klaxon kept blaring, telling him clearly that he wasn't home.

He wasn't sure if he ever would be again.

His phone rang, without looking he grabbed it – thinking the noise off to no avail. "Sheppard here."

"I can't believe how they've dropped the requirements for Phds these days. Madison could do better work. I'm sure she has. By the way Jeannie said you should come by..."

It wasn't much, but it might be enough.


End file.
